


First Sight

by Emmzzi



Category: Ladyhawke (1985)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 14:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmzzi/pseuds/Emmzzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A romance piece of how Isabeau and Etienne met, with some bonus Goliath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Sight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [entropy_house](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=entropy_house).



Etienne watched from the archway, not wishing to break the spell. He recognised a precious family moment that he really should not intrude upon.

One day, perhaps, he would have a pretty daughter like that himself. If the red haired girl in the tavern finally agreed to be courted. “When you’re older,” she would say. “And richer.” Well, she’d think twice when he returned from battle a hero. And maybe then, he’d have other plans, and she’d be too late, and regret turning him away. She’d end up alone, or with an old, fat man; not a young, bold warrior.

The flaxen haired girl’s face was wonder and amazement.

“He was growing in her stomach? But the mare was so big. And he’s so tiny! ”

“Yes, Isabeau,” said her father, cleaning the foal’s nostrils with a soft rag, then wiping down its coat. “But he’ll grow up big and strong, like his mother.”

“Really big? Bigger than me?”

“Yes, much bigger. But you’ll grow bigger too. Now, go and ask the stable boy to bring blankets, and some fresh hay. This one needs to rest.” There was a hint of impatience.

“Can we give him a name?”

The Count scowled, irritated, and his tone became terse. “Don’t be so sentimental, Isabeau. You’re not a little girl any more. He’s promised to another. He’ll only be with us for a while. When he’s older, he has work to do, in the crusades.  Like me.” He cast aside the cleaning rag, and grasped Isabeau’s chin in one firm hand, ensuring she was paying attention. “You can‘t become attached to such things. He may not come back, and besides, he‘s only an animal. They don‘t think or feel like people.

And you have no time for him. You know I leave in a few days, and you‘ll be in Aquila. Your cousin has no room for horses.”

Perhaps this was not such a happy family. The Count released her jaw, and the child’s expression changed to a near-crying pout. “Then why did you show me….”

“Someone has to show you how nature works.” _Really? She seems too old not to know about… _“What killed your mother.” _Ah. _

Etienne made a point of knocking his feet on the flagstones to announce his arrival, and coughed.  She was such a sweet child, but her father was so cold. A distraction might be welcome.

The Count rose quickly. “Yes, boy?” he snapped.

_I’m not a boy.  I’m a man, part of the guard. Next year, I join the crusade, at my father’s side._

“A message, sir, from my father.”

Etienne felt himself being visually assessed and examined; and, judging from the Count’s expression, found wanting. The letter was snatched, read briefly, and stuffed into a pouch, before the Count strode out of the stables.

Etienne did not know if he should follow. “Is there a reply, sir?“

“No. You are dismissed.” And, “Isabeau, don’t dawdle. Fetch the stable boy to it.”

_You arrogant fool.  Would it hurt to show her some compassion?_ Etienne turned back.

The girl was once again engrossed with the foal. “I want you to have a name,” he heard her whisper. “I’m going to call you Goliath.”

Goliath, for a giant, Etienne supposed. A good, solid name. When he was old enough to go to the crusades himself - which would only be a year or so now - he’d like a Goliath to carry him to victory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
“We need you here, Navarre.”

“But my father….”

“Your father,” Jehan reminded him, “did not want you to suffer his fate. And,” his gaze toward the castle now, “the people need protection. If not you and I, then who?”

Jehan looked around, checking they could not be overheard,  before lowering his voice.

“Do you believe in their god, Etienne? Is it worth dying for? You and I know, there are more things in heaven and earth….  We have seen things, such things, right here in Aquila. This Bishop…” Jehan threw his hands up. “But you will do as you must.”

“Watch your words, Jehan. He is a good man, a holy man.” _A powerful man to make an enemy_. “He’s done me no harm.”

“So far. Power makes men mad, Etienne. I beseech you, think well. There are good people in this parish. Good people, and bad forces.”

Etienne’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword; not in anger, but in memory. Jehan was right, there were forces here, evil forces close by.  Somehow, he felt them. And whether here, or in the Holy Land, wasn’t that what his father had been fighting?

Was that enough reason to stay?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
   
Time passed. Etienne worked and trained and studied hard, and achieved much that would have made his father proud.

Captain of the Guard.  The youngest there had ever been.

_Although the real heroes are in the Holy Land. If they were here, if so many had not fallen, would you be Captain, Etienne? Or would you still be a guardsman?_

A fine new horse, a beautiful jet black stallion. Older than the colts he’d taken on and trained before, but somehow, this one felt right. Fast, strong - and somehow he trusted it. Him.

When he had heard the name, there had been no choice.

His Goliath.

Etienne had never felt such a connection to an animal; and, it seemed, Goliath felt the same. The stallion would let no one else touch him, let alone ride him; would accept food from no other; and would not rest until his master was safe, no matter how late the hour, how long the journey, how hard the rain.

He had no concerns, then, about Goliath’s safety when he visited the tavern. Etienne made only  a token attempt to tether him. Goliath would not roam, nor let himself be stolen.

Captaincy brought great responsibility. The people expected him to be beyond reproach. But men had needs, all men had needs. Some ale, some flirting with his favourite landlady, and then, who knew?

Goliath whinnied, breaking his usual stoicism. “Easy, boy,” Etienne said, patting his side. “What is it? You don’t approve?”

“He’s very handsome,” came a soft voice from behind.

Goliath neighed his agreement. Etienne finished the halter knot. “He is indeed. And very…”

He fell silent, watching Goliath rubbing his head against the woman’s hand. “Hey, boy,” she cooed. “What’s your name?” She pulled an apple from her bag. Goliath munched happily.

Etienne was transfixed. The last fingers of the setting sun caught her long, golden hair, bathing her in light.  She was completely focussed on Goliath, her smile warm, her eyes sparkling. Her skin glowed like moonbeams.

The red haired landlady already forgotten, Etienne breathed, “Goliath.” His heart pounded as Isabeau looked up. He knew it was her before she said,

“I’m Isabeau. I had a horse called Goliath, once. Not for long. I tried to find him again, after father died…” She fell silent awhile, her fingers gently brushing Goliath’s mane. Etienne could not speak; could hardly take in air. Usually so assured of his success with women, he felt once again like a clumsy, fumbling teenager.

 “Maybe it’s the same horse?” Isabeau smiled coyly. “Do you think? He seems to know me. Do you think he could remember?”

“Maybe.” She was stunning. Simply stunning. He flattered himself to think perhaps, just perhaps, her cheeks were flushing. “He likes you. He doesn’t tend to like people.”

“I must be different to other people. I’ve always been drawn to animals; they seem to trust me. They can be so loyal.”

She took her time finding another apple, and then closing her bag. Etienne suspected she was delaying by design. He hoped she was.

“This is a dangerous area, my lady,” he lied. “Perhaps I could escort you home. Is it far?”

He would have walked with her to the ends of the earth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever after, Isabeau would say it had been love at first sight. Etienne knew that, when he had seen her as a child, he had not loved her. Cared, perhaps, but not loved. But Isabeau was a romantic, and Etienne would not spoil her memory for all the world.

“Yes,” he would agree, smiling fondly, choosing to decide that the first time he had really, truly seen her had been in Aquila. “At first sight.”

As he kissed her, a now familiar act, but one they never took for granted, and one he never tired of, his fingers would tangle in her hair. Shorter hair, but still golden, flecked with silver, as it caught both the rising and setting of the sun. Her skin still glowed, and somehow, he didn’t see the wrinkles she complained of, or where she claimed to have filled out a little. Perhaps she was growing a little short sighted; or perhaps he was; but in his mind, she was exactly as she had been that first time, in Aquila.

“I loved you at first sight, my Isabeau.” He would never tire of telling her; of seeing the love in her eyes.

And when he was near, like today, as they all walked the wild moors, Goliath, also older, just as handsome, and even more stubborn, would neigh his agreement.

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't seen the film but your author letter made it sound interesting, so off to Amazon it was. It took a couple of viewings to get past the soundtrack :-) but what a gorgeous love story! So I couldn't resist doing a little of what might have been, for these pre-destined lovers, before the film.
> 
> And you are right - Goliath is quite wonderful.
> 
> I don't usually do gen - but this was too wonderfully romantic a source material to sully.
> 
> Thanks for the prompt. I really enjoyed this film. (Of course, this was meant to be a B7 fic!!)


End file.
